Post by Rabbi Neil on Dec 17, 2021 20:27:36 GMT
It’s the 2nd of January 1988. A young man called Neil stands in front of his community and leads the service as well as chants from the Torah portion of Vayechi. Everyone present knows even at this age that this kid is heading towards the Rabbinate, especially Neil’s grandmother who, after Neil reads his commentary on the Torah portion, proudly and loudly turns to someone nearby and says in a ridiculous put-on accent “Mun grandson, the Rabbi!” But something is amiss and Neil is uncomfortable by something, even though he doesn’t express it at the time. It’s that the Torah portion and the Haftarah that he has to read are really depressing and kind of suck for a bar mitzvah kid. Both Jacob and Joseph die in the Torah portion, and David dies in the Haftarah. Even more unsettling, where Jacob and Joseph die peacefully, King David’s final death speech is one of revenge. The whole thing is a bit of a downer for a bar mitzvah kid to read.
Decades later, I’m drawn back to this speech. In it, David says, “Further, you know what Joab son of Zeruiah did to me, what he did to the two commanders of Israel’s forces, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether: he killed them, shedding blood of war in peacetime, staining the girdle of his loins and the sandals on his feet with blood of war. So act in accordance with your wisdom, and see that his white hair does not go down to Sheol in peace.” (Kings 1, 2:5-6) One commentary that was brought to my attention this morning was by medieval commentator Don Isaac Abarbanel (1437–1508), who wrote of this speech: “With regard to David’s command to Solomon concerning Joab, that Solomon not allow Joab’s gray hair to go down peacefully to the grave; this is difficult from many angles. In as much as Joab was David’s faithful servant and blood relative and performed many great deeds for David’s honor, why did David repay him good with evil? And all the more so, before his own death, when it would have been more appropriate to forgive anyone who sinned against him rather than taking vengeance and bearing a grudge against his officers and servants.”
It turns out that young Neil was not the only person to find this depressing and challenging. Decades later, returning to these texts, though, the reason these texts were brought together becomes different. I had thought that they were connected by the deaths of these significant figures, but that’s only touching on the surface. What connects them is not the fact that these men died, but how they died. When Jacob dies, he speaks about each of his sons, some in complimentary ways, others not so much. Then he turns to Joseph and says that God will be with him and points towards a positive future when the family is no longer in Egypt. Similarly, when Joseph dies he turns to his brothers and says that God will be with them and will bring them out of Egypt. Both of them share a message of hope when they die. David, however, uses his speech to settle old scores, and to ensure that grudges in his lifetime continue after he dies. They couldn’t be more different, and that is why the comparison is so important.
We often like to believe that we are autonomous individuals, and that we make our own choices, but often who we are is created as much by the people we interact with and the situations in which we find ourselves as it is by our own choices. The life experience of Jacob and Joseph is totally different to that of King David. That’s not to excuse David’s vindictive speech, but rather to at least give it some context. Joseph rose from the pit to the jail to become the grand vizier of Egypt without having to lift a finger. He is able to turn around at the end of his life and forgive his brothers because, as he also says in this week’s portion, even though they intended him harm, God intended everything for good. Joseph can die in peace because even though his brothers betrayed him early in life and even though he was falsely accused of rape, in the end his legacy lives on. King David, however, is different. Even though he also rose to power, while he was in power he had to deal with politics the likes of which Joseph never experienced. David is cynical and skeptical of people because he knows that so many people are vying for his crown after he dies. He is fearful for the future of the people under the wrong leadership. Both David and Joseph have a relationship with God but Joseph moved from challenge to a life of luxury, while David’s life of luxury was always threatened by others. His relationship with God is more turbulent just as his life is more turbulent. He wants to hope in God just as he wants to hope in people, but that doesn’t come as easily to him.
On the basic level, then, this week’s Torah portion and haftarah remind us that everybody dies. That’s true but that’s not much of a message, especially for a young bar mitzvah boy. More importantly, I have come to realize that the confluence of these death scenes reminds us to reflect on how our life choices and the life choices of others change us. They also direct us to ask questions about ourselves on an individual level - Have we become more cynical? Have we lost hope? Are we right to be afraid of the future? If we have become cynical, if we have lost hope, if we are afraid of the future, what can we do about that now? Can we change that before we draw up our feet on our death beds? What might be the obstacles to making that change and how might we overcome those obstacles?
As well as all of that, these narratives particularly direct us to consider our legacy. Not everyone is as lucky as Jacob, Joseph and David to live long lives, and creating a legacy is not just something that is the luxury of old men but is also the responsibility of all of us. These death stories may seem depressing, but they can ultimately be extremely empowering, reminding us of the need today to question what our legacy would be tomorrow, and what we want it to be if we are lucky enough to live long into the future? All three of these Biblical characters had a vision of the future – two were optimistic and one was cynical and dark – and these narratives show us the importance of defining and acting on our vision of the world while there is still time.
So, let us take time this week to reflect on what kind of people we have become now, and what kind of people we wish to be at the end of our lives, whenever that may be. Let us reflect on what formed us, what still challenges us. Let us consider whether we have lost hope for the future and, if so, how we might regain it. And let us help each other crate a shared powerful vision of the future for the good of all, and let us say Amen.
Decades later, I’m drawn back to this speech. In it, David says, “Further, you know what Joab son of Zeruiah did to me, what he did to the two commanders of Israel’s forces, Abner son of Ner and Amasa son of Jether: he killed them, shedding blood of war in peacetime, staining the girdle of his loins and the sandals on his feet with blood of war. So act in accordance with your wisdom, and see that his white hair does not go down to Sheol in peace.” (Kings 1, 2:5-6) One commentary that was brought to my attention this morning was by medieval commentator Don Isaac Abarbanel (1437–1508), who wrote of this speech: “With regard to David’s command to Solomon concerning Joab, that Solomon not allow Joab’s gray hair to go down peacefully to the grave; this is difficult from many angles. In as much as Joab was David’s faithful servant and blood relative and performed many great deeds for David’s honor, why did David repay him good with evil? And all the more so, before his own death, when it would have been more appropriate to forgive anyone who sinned against him rather than taking vengeance and bearing a grudge against his officers and servants.”
It turns out that young Neil was not the only person to find this depressing and challenging. Decades later, returning to these texts, though, the reason these texts were brought together becomes different. I had thought that they were connected by the deaths of these significant figures, but that’s only touching on the surface. What connects them is not the fact that these men died, but how they died. When Jacob dies, he speaks about each of his sons, some in complimentary ways, others not so much. Then he turns to Joseph and says that God will be with him and points towards a positive future when the family is no longer in Egypt. Similarly, when Joseph dies he turns to his brothers and says that God will be with them and will bring them out of Egypt. Both of them share a message of hope when they die. David, however, uses his speech to settle old scores, and to ensure that grudges in his lifetime continue after he dies. They couldn’t be more different, and that is why the comparison is so important.
We often like to believe that we are autonomous individuals, and that we make our own choices, but often who we are is created as much by the people we interact with and the situations in which we find ourselves as it is by our own choices. The life experience of Jacob and Joseph is totally different to that of King David. That’s not to excuse David’s vindictive speech, but rather to at least give it some context. Joseph rose from the pit to the jail to become the grand vizier of Egypt without having to lift a finger. He is able to turn around at the end of his life and forgive his brothers because, as he also says in this week’s portion, even though they intended him harm, God intended everything for good. Joseph can die in peace because even though his brothers betrayed him early in life and even though he was falsely accused of rape, in the end his legacy lives on. King David, however, is different. Even though he also rose to power, while he was in power he had to deal with politics the likes of which Joseph never experienced. David is cynical and skeptical of people because he knows that so many people are vying for his crown after he dies. He is fearful for the future of the people under the wrong leadership. Both David and Joseph have a relationship with God but Joseph moved from challenge to a life of luxury, while David’s life of luxury was always threatened by others. His relationship with God is more turbulent just as his life is more turbulent. He wants to hope in God just as he wants to hope in people, but that doesn’t come as easily to him.
On the basic level, then, this week’s Torah portion and haftarah remind us that everybody dies. That’s true but that’s not much of a message, especially for a young bar mitzvah boy. More importantly, I have come to realize that the confluence of these death scenes reminds us to reflect on how our life choices and the life choices of others change us. They also direct us to ask questions about ourselves on an individual level - Have we become more cynical? Have we lost hope? Are we right to be afraid of the future? If we have become cynical, if we have lost hope, if we are afraid of the future, what can we do about that now? Can we change that before we draw up our feet on our death beds? What might be the obstacles to making that change and how might we overcome those obstacles?
As well as all of that, these narratives particularly direct us to consider our legacy. Not everyone is as lucky as Jacob, Joseph and David to live long lives, and creating a legacy is not just something that is the luxury of old men but is also the responsibility of all of us. These death stories may seem depressing, but they can ultimately be extremely empowering, reminding us of the need today to question what our legacy would be tomorrow, and what we want it to be if we are lucky enough to live long into the future? All three of these Biblical characters had a vision of the future – two were optimistic and one was cynical and dark – and these narratives show us the importance of defining and acting on our vision of the world while there is still time.
So, let us take time this week to reflect on what kind of people we have become now, and what kind of people we wish to be at the end of our lives, whenever that may be. Let us reflect on what formed us, what still challenges us. Let us consider whether we have lost hope for the future and, if so, how we might regain it. And let us help each other crate a shared powerful vision of the future for the good of all, and let us say Amen.